


The Parade

by dreadpiratewatson



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Birthday Fluff, Boys In Love, Captain John Watson, Established Sherlock Holmes/John Watson, Idiots in Love, John Loves Sherlock, John in Afghanistan, John is a Saint, Johnlock - Freeform, Johnlock Fluff, M/M, Sherlock Being Sherlock, Sherlock Loves John, Sherlock in Love, Surprises
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-19
Updated: 2015-08-19
Packaged: 2018-04-15 12:40:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,481
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4607127
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dreadpiratewatson/pseuds/dreadpiratewatson
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Greg Lestrade receives a phone call from an army doctor claiming to be Sherlock's fiancé, they work together to plan an elaborate birthday surprise for the consulting detective. The plan is insane, even for Sherlock, but, as John reminds him, "Someone has to watch the parade go by".</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Parade

**Author's Note:**

> Hello everyone! I know it's late (where I am, at least), but, I got my first job today, so I thought I'd write a short, fluffy fic in celebration for myself. 
> 
> Also, the key line in this story, "someone has to watch the parade go by" is an actual quote from my fiancé's grandmother as she talked about her husband. They are a beautiful, crazy couple, and I adore them. I took the quote and decided to write a fic about my favorite couple around it. 
> 
> Anyway, I hope you enjoy it! 
> 
> Love you all!

The call came in on a Wednesday. It was a slow day at Scotland Yard, so Detective Inspector Greg Lestrade was sitting at his desk, filing papers and drinking cups of coffee after cup of coffee to keep himself from dying of boredom. It was lazy. It was relaxed. Greg was actually on the verge of falling asleep.

"Sir?" Sally Donovan called, knocking on the door to his office, waking him up a bit.

Greg looked up. "Yeah?"

"Phone call for you, sir. Says it's important."

The DI nodded and reached for his phone. "Thank you, Donovan." Once the sergeant had gone, he picked up the phone on his desk and held it to his ear. "Lestrade." He said, flatly.

"Detective Inspector?" Came the voice on the other end. It was a man's voice, rough, but soft at the same time, but definitely not one he recognized.

Greg cleared his throat. "Yes?"

"Hello, sorry, my name is John Watson, I'm a Captain in the RAMC." The man explained quickly.

Lestrade paused, then leaned back in his chair, giving his full attention to the soldier. "Oh, hello. What can I do for you?" He asked.

"I uh... I have a favor I need to ask. It's kind of a big deal. You know Sherlock Holmes, correct?"

 _Oh, Jesus._ "Yes, sir, I do, and I promise you, anything he said to you or did, I will take full responsibility-"

John laughed, which cut him off. "Oh, God, I guess he has been bored lately."

"Sir?"

The soldier, still trying to contain his laughter, cleared his throat. "Sorry, um... You see sir, Sherlock Holmes is my fiancé."

Greg nearly spit out his coffee. _"Fiancé?"_ He demanded. "You mean you and Sherlock have been... I didn't even know he was dating anybody!"

"We've been together since uni, sir." The soldier said, sounding amused. "I figured he wouldn't mention me, you know how it is. Plus, this whole thing has been hard on him." He explained. "Look, I've been in Afghanistan for the last three years, and I proposed right before I left. I haven't really been home much since our engagement, and I'm finally getting a few weeks of leave, so I'm coming home to see him. I'll be home on Saturday for his birthday. But, he doesn't know yet."

Lestrade hesitated. He was still trying to wrap his head around the idea of Sherlock Holmes getting married, especially to an army doctor. "Would you like me to tell him?"

"No!" The soldier protested. "No, I want to surprise him. But, I need your help to do so."

Suddenly, the DI was interested, and he leaned forward on the desk. "What can I do?"

** ________________ **

The plan was almost excruciatingly elaborate. It was borderline too-much in Greg's mind, but then again, to surprise Sherlock Holmes would take something twice as eccentric as the man himself was. It took almost twenty officers to pull it off, and while some of them were willing to help, some were reluctant, but they helped out anyway.

Lestrade met John the morning they got everything in place. He arrived at Scotland Yard a few hours after they began setting up in a black car that Greg recognized as the one that Mycroft Holmes always showed up in. He was still dressed in military fatigues, obviously he was fresh off the plane, and he was nothing like Greg expected. He was shorter, but muscular and a really friendly guy. He had a charming smile that made even Donovan swoon a bit when she thought no one was looking. He was the complete opposite of what he expected of Sherlock's future husband to be, but it was a nice surprise.

John, the soldier, went over the plan with everyone one more time as the clock struck ten o'clock in the morning, making sure everyone understood. He made it very clear to _try their damn hardest_ to keep it to themselves that there was an ulterior motive for bringing him here, because Sherlock would be able to sense it in a heartbeat, so it was best if Greg handled him. Everyone agreed and got ready to get position.

By ten fifteen, everyone went tearing out of Scotland Yard in police cars, lights ablaze and sirens blaring.

By ten thirty, Greg made the call.

** ________________ **

Sherlock Holmes made it to the scene quickly, leaving Baker St. in a rush the moment he was called. Triple murder found in a back yard estate, there were already more than a dozen officers on scene, and they were in desperate need for him. He was secretly excited for a case, he had been getting hopelessly bored.

When he got to the crime scene, he could already see officers covering the area, and Sherlock was almost appalled at the sight of everything. _These idiots are going to contaminate the scene. Why does Lestrade let them in?_  It didn't take long before he saw Greg running toward him from afar. He looked odd, his eyes were flashing, and he seemed a little too excited, but, he decided not to point it out. He was just happy to get out of being bored. "Sherlock!"

The detective nodded at him. "Lestrade. You called me, where are the bodies?"

"This way." Greg replied, leading him away. "Thanks for coming, it's a bloody mess out here. Quite literally, in fact."

A shiver went down Sherlock's spine. He loved these cases. "Give me the details you already have, and don't be boring."

Lestrade glared, but lead him through the almost excessive amount of officers toward the scene. "First victim is late thirties to early forties, he worked in the estate as a cook, and was found out here by a couple walking their dog. Poor bastard had his head beaten in with a blunt object, looks like a wrench or something like that. Second victim is also man, late twenties, shot through the temple. Looks like a tourist." The DI explained quickly.

"Who found the second victim?"

"We did. He's about ten feet from the cook."

Chills shot up Sherlock's spine. _Oh, this will be fun._

Suddenly, Greg smiled. "Oh, by the way, happy birthday." He said as he lifted up the police tape.

Sherlock wrinkled his nose and went to glare at him. "Don't do that." He looked away, but was surprised to see that there was no body on the ground behind the tape. "Lestrade, where is the body?"

The grin only got bigger. "Sorry, Sherlock, I lied. There are no bodies."

Annoyance flared through the detective's body, and at his side, his fists clinched. "What the hell are you talking about? Why did you bring me here if there wasn't a case?" He demanded angrily.

"Sorry, no bodies. I suppose you'll have to make due with me." A voice from behind snickered.

Sherlock's blood ran ice cold.

_No._

_It can't be._

He whipped around to face the source of the familiar voice, his breath catching in his throat as he lay his eyes on the smiling army doctor who stood leaning against one of the police cars. He was obviously fresh off of the plane, just in from Afghanistan, still in his fatigues, but, he was smiling, his eyes were bright... He was home.

"John?" He gasped, ignoring the social constructs he had memorized, and threw himself straight into his soldier's arms. He twisted his fingers in John's sand colored hair, not bothering to be gentle or kind like he usually was while kissing John. He was too happy to see him.

Laughter started rumbling up from John's chest, and he pulled away, although his form was slightly blurred, as Sherlock's eyes were already becoming misty. "Happy to see me, then?" He asked, teasingly.

Sherlock couldn't help but laugh as well. He knew he was grinning like an idiot, but his heart was pounding in his chest like a caged animal, and he was much too happy to care. "Yes, of course, I am, but what are you doing here? You told me you wouldn't be coming for another two months!" He exclaimed, remembering the painful twist that had occurred in his chest after John told him that.

John scoffed, like the idea was outlandish. "It's your birthday, love, I couldn't miss it again."

"John Watson, you are such a-"

"Oi, watch your language." Greg Lestrade interrupted, coming up behind the two men. He and John shared a smile, then he turned back to Sherlock. "So, are you happy that I brought you out here?"

It took Sherlock less than a minute to realize what was going on, and once he did, his heart skipped again, and he had to swallow the lump that rose in throat. "You planned this?" He asked quietly.

Lestrade smirked. "John called me on Wednesday, asked me if I would help him surprise you for your birthday. I couldn't pass the opportunity up." He explained.

Sherlock turned back to his fiancé in surprise. "You did all of this for me?"

"I wouldn't do it for anyone else." John replied, reaching up to brush his warm, calloused fingers over the Sherlock's cheek.

The detective didn't know what to say. John was home, and he had recruited half of New Scotland Yard to surprise him, all for the sake of his birthday, a day he generally despised. He looked around at all of the officers surrounding the scene, all of them smiling, and a few of them even appearing tearful for the reunion, although these were people who generally didn't like him. He didn't know how to feel, and eventually, he just looked down at his feet, partially embarrassed, partially trying not to get too tearful. Not in front of them. Although, much to his own hatred, it didn't seem to be working. He was too overwhelmed. His heart felt too heavy with emotion. His body was betraying him.

"Oh, come here, you idiot." John hissed, pulling the detective to his chest once again, obviously seeing the tears in his eyes. His arms were strong enough to make Sherlock feel at least a little better, as they felt oddly like home, no matter how cliché it sounded. "I love you. You know that, right?" The soldier's voice was so soft, it made Sherlock's heart ache. He missed that voice.

Sherlock nodded. "I love you too, John." When he pulled away, he was surprised-but not at all upset-to see tears brimming in John's eyes too.

"You better."

Lestrade cleared his throat. "I believe, Captain, I was promised a story." He said, his eyes glinting mischievously.

John's mouth turned up into a wolffish grin, and he nodded. "I suppose you were."

"Story?" Sherlock narrowed his eyes.

"He said you two met at Uni. How?"

_Ah. That story._

John wrapped an arm around Sherlock's waist and pulled him close. "He and I were just roommates at first, but we hated each other. He was brilliant, but he was rude, obnoxious, he took too much time in the shower, which used all of the hot water, played music until three in the morning, _never_ studied, I absolutely _hated_ him."

"While he claims I was worse, John, in fact was the bigger issue. He was always nice to everyone, he brought his girlfriends over, he wore awful smelling cologne, he threw away my experiments, he cleaned everything up... I hated being around him probably more than he hated being around me." The detective muttered, his face red. He tried not to smile as he remembered their early days as near enemies. _Those were the best of times._

Lestrade on the other hand, looked confused. "So, what changed?" He asked.

The soldier's arm tightened around Sherlock's waist. "We got drunk one night together, and watched James Bond. He ended up loving it, and we ended up bonding over action films. And..." He paused to gaze fondly up at his fiancé. "The rest is history. We stayed together throughout uni, and then I went into the military, but we stayed together. When I got home on leave the first time, I found out he had got the place at Baker St. for the two of us, and we moved in right away. We talk as often as we can, and everything has just been one adventure after another, despite how... Off the wall he can be."

Sherlock laughed breathlessly. "Off the wall is the kind way to put it. Why do you put up with me? You could do so much better." He asked jokingly.

John rolled his eyes, then leaned up to press a gentle kiss to his fiancé's nose. "Well, someone has to watch the parade go by." He whispered, his tone light and humorous, like the way his voice always sounded in the morning while he ran his hands up and down Sherlock's skin, caressing every scar, and whispering things so beautiful that it made his heart ache.

And just like that, Sherlock Holmes fell in love with John Watson all over again.

The detective's heart exploded with warmth, and he suddenly felt he was drowning in euphoria. All he wanted to do was lie in bed with his army doctor, rediscover him, cherish him, _remember_ him... He wanted to forget every night his thoughts would get the better of him, especially after not hearing from John for days, and he would stay up all night in a state of paralyzing fear that his soldier would never come home. He wanted to forget every bad thought, every nightmare, every ugly anxiety that he had mustered up for so many months, and pretend like they never existed. "Take me home?" He murmured, low enough for no one else to hear, as the words were not meant for anyone else.

A smile spread across John's face, and he nodded. "Detective Inspector, it was a pleasure watching you work, but, I'm exhausted, so we're going to head home."

_Home._

The word sent Sherlock's heart into a nervous flutter.

He watched as John and Greg shook hands, and made some sort of plans to meet up at the pub later in the week, and then they were off, John pulling him through the crowds of people, out to the main road where they slid into a cab, their hands clasped tightly on the seat between them. They didn't speak a word to each other, but, the air was light and warm, like sitting in front of a fire during a snow storm. Eventually, the cabbie struck up a conversation with John about Afghanistan, and soon, his soldier was off, telling stories of the war and life on the base... And Sherlock listened with a smile on his face, adoring how the doctor's face lit up so brightly with pride, just as the detective sometimes did at crime scenes.

_Someone has to watch the parade go by._


End file.
